


lose you

by ab82



Category: Scream (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/F, Fear of loss, Promises, audrey worries about her babe a lot, emma doesn't know how to deal with her problems, friends to lovers (kind of), kind of hurt to comfort?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab82/pseuds/ab82
Summary: everybody thinks that things come naturally and easily after love confessions. but in the case of audrey jensen and emma duval, things are a lot more complicated than that. yes, emma and audrey know that they love each other now, but that doesn't mean they automatically get to be happy and in love. no, emma starts to pull away, and audrey gets scared. because what if having someone who loves you back doesn't necessarily mean you get to end up happy?(aka the one where emma and audrey are in love, and emma's so scared of losing audrey that she practically self-destructs.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm a spontaneous piece of crap, and this kinda just came randomly? guess i was in the writing mood this weekend. sorry i haven't been very active, school is kicking my butt! 
> 
> wanted to talk about stavo and brooke's relationship in this, as well as stavo's relationship with audrey a bit, because i've never really written about stavo before, and i don't like stavo and brooke much as a couple but i'm trying to get past that, so might as well make them cute in my fanfic, right?
> 
> comments are encouraged and appreciated.
> 
> as always, thank you for reading. much love.
> 
> xo,  
> L

One of the things that Audrey has always loved about Emma Duval is just how much she _feels_. The girl absolutely refuses to let herself go numb to the world around her, and that’s a beautiful thing to Audrey — Emma is definitely a stronger person than her for that. Even at a time in their lives where most people would simply shut down, Emma carries on, wears every emotion on her features like battle scars and keeps her heart on her sleeve. It’s something admirable, really.

 

There’s been occasional exceptions to this, of course — the first week after Will’s death, the initial police interview immediately after Kieran’s capture, the days here and there when the therapy doesn’t work quite like it should and Emma convinces herself she’s to blame. But for the most part, Emma’s been an open book with her feelings, and it’s just another one of those things that Audrey loves so much about her. It’s what makes her Emma.

 

But the occasional numbness stops being _occasional_ and turns more into _usual_ right around the two-month post-Kieran mark. Emma’s been doing exceptionally well, to be fair; all the legal proceedings have started, and the constant interviews with slimy defense attorneys and gruff prosecutors have been hard on her, Audrey knows that. The trial, which is slated to start in June, won’t be any easier — she has to testify, too, and the prosecutor has already warned her that Kieran’s lawyers will try to drag both her and Emma’s reputations through the mud. But Emma’s weathered all the intrusive questions and painful memories like they’re nothing; she’s even walked out of the meetings with a smile a couple of times. 

 

And then she doesn’t. The smiles that Audrey fights so hard to see, the laughter that she tries so desperately to provoke, the little glimpse of dimpled cheeks that Audrey practically lives for — those things begin to disappear, little by little, until Audrey can’t remember the last time she saw them at all. 

 

It puts her a little on edge, but Audrey tells herself that Emma’s probably just hit a rough spot in her recovery. It happens to the best of them, right? God knows how many tequila-induced panic attacks she’s had (turns out that after the ayahuasca incident, alcohol doesn’t do much for her except stress her out) since Kieran’s reveal, and Noah had to be escorted out of the lawyer’s office when the prosecutor asked him about Zoe. Brooke’s had her moments, too. So it’s not like Emma’s alone in this. She’ll get back to “normal” (what can normal even be defined as, these days) soon.

 

Except Emma doesn’t get back to whatever her version of normal is. She shuts herself away even more, stops coming to their weekly Friday movie nights under the excuse of being “tired” and shies away from Audrey’s touch. If she just did that at school, in public, Audrey could maybe understand — there’s going to be an even bigger spotlight on them now as the trial gears up, and any speculation of romance in the press could definitely give Kieran’s defense team some ammunition. But Emma doesn’t even let Audrey kiss her in the privacy of their own bedrooms.

 

And oh, yeah, that’s probably something she should mention — she and Emma are in more than a kind of weird place in their “friendship” right now. Audrey doesn’t even know if she can really call it a friendship anymore, because friends don’t love each other like this, do they? Girls who are “just” friends don’t confess their heartbreak in an abandoned barn and save each other’s lives more times than they can count. That’s just not how it works around here, or in the rest of the world, either. 

 

It also doesn’t help that, a month after Kieran’s arrest, they’re sitting in Audrey’s bedroom and watching “The Breakfast Club” (a secret guilty pleasure of hers) when Emma pops a piece of chocolate in her mouth and tells Audrey she loves her.

 

Audrey remembers that moment vividly; it still runs through her head on a daily basis. “Love you too,” she’d murmured sleepily, eyes still trained on the TV. But then Emma had shaken her head and repeated it again, more insistently this time, and that was when Audrey finally got it. This wasn’t platonic love she was expressing. This was _real_ love.

 

“W-wait, what?” she’d stammered, immediately pausing the movie. It stopped on a particularly unromantic frame, John Bender with his mouth wide open, but Audrey didn’t care, had tunnel vision and couldn’t focus on anything else but the beautiful girl sitting next to her.

 

And then Emma had explained it all, how Audrey’s confession in the barn had been stuck in her brain, playing on an endless loop, in the hours and days and weeks since Kieran’s reveal, and how she’d so badly wanted to find out if Audrey loved her still, but how she’d been too scared to say anything for a long time. Apparently, magic mix was her liberator, enabling her to say the things she’d been too frightened to hear the response to. 

 

Audrey’s response was the one she’d been looking for all along, a breathless “ _I love you too_ ”, and then their lips had met and everything became one big blur of messy perfection. 

 

But now they’re here, one month after this second confession and two months after Kieran’s reveal, and this blur of perfection has seemingly turned into a blur of confusion. Nothing seems to be certain, everything up in the air now that Emma has gotten so distant. The lack of touch and the constant blank look on her face, coupled with the additional detail that Emma is apparently getting shit-faced at parties every weekend, has Audrey terrified. Emma’s recovery is doing a total 180, and she doesn’t know how to stop it.

 

But as things in Lakewood do, it all naturally comes to a head on its own. It’s the second weekend in April, the beginning of spring break and also, coincidentally enough, what Noah calls his “birthday week”. Technically, his birthday’s on April 10th, but every year, Noah turns it into a week-long extravaganza. Noah’s birthday weeks of the past have just involved him and Audrey, chilling on the game shop’s couch and playing _Call of Duty_ till their thumbs cramped up. Now that kind of week is a thing of the past, Brooke having decided long ago to hold a “rager” for Noah’s 18th. Audrey can’t decide if it’s better or worse the way she and Noah used to celebrate.

 

It’s a Saturday, and Brooke, of course, has the house to herself, her mother having recently taken off on another “spiritual retreat” (Audrey feels awful for her friend, honestly; after the mayor’s death, Brooke’s mom had come back to take care of her, but two months in and she’s already off to Tibet). She’s promised them that there’ll be a max of thirty people at the party, Noah having begged her to keep it small, although he should’ve known that Brooke Maddox’s idea of small is on a whole other level than his. Thirty still feels like too many to Audrey, though. Truthfully, anything more than four has felt almost suffocating since Kieran. 

 

Brooke, Noah, and even Emma, they understand this, they do. Maybe they don’t feel as strongly about it, maybe their chests don’t squeeze as tightly as Audrey’s does in a crowd, but they all still don their own special brands of armor tonight. Brooke’s lips are painted red, dress dark and form-fitting. Noah’s wearing his favorite T-shirt and clutches at his fancy craft beer like it’s a life preserver. Emma’s hair is curled to perfection, her shoes quirky-cute and blouse neatly pressed. Audrey herself has her favorite leather jacket on, combat boots laced tightly and liner smudged dark around her eyes, just the way she likes it. They’re all maintaining their preferred personas tonight, Brooke wanting to seem fierce, Noah trying to be smart and funny, Emma attempting to look put-together and pretty. Audrey’s acutely aware of her own desperation to come off as tough and indestructible, even though the people here know better than anyone that she couldn’t be further from that.

 

Anyway, their armor seems to be working well enough. Noah’s explaining the war between Marvel and DC Comics to a group of jocks, and he seems to actually be doing pretty well. Brooke and Stavo are laughing, surrounded by some people that Audrey vaguely recognizes from their Psych class. She has to admit that they’re a perfect couple, everything dark in Stavo contrasting beautifully with Brooke’s light, each bringing out something hidden deep in the other. They look majestic, almost, standing there and practically holding court in the middle of the living room, like a queen and king. Audrey’s happy for them, but it makes her ache for what’s been lost, and what she herself might lose if she’s not careful. _Emma._

 

Speaking of, where is she? Audrey hasn’t seen her best friend since she and Noah got here and said their hellos. An image of Emma slipping downstairs flashes in her mind, and Audrey curses under her breath as she makes her way through the crowd. _Of course. The wine cellar._

 

It’s no secret that Emma’s had a penchant for alcohol in the months since Kieran’s arrest. Vodka, beer, and wine coolers have all filled the hole in her heart that he left behind, and everyone at George Washington High knows about it. Audrey doesn’t like that, the thought that anyone could possibly judge Emma for this making her blood boil, but she knows that’s just how the high school rumor mill works. People are going to gossip, no matter how shitty it makes them. Nina got her throat slit, and people gossiped. Brooke found herself decorated with Jake’s guts instead of a crown, and people gossiped. Emma held a gun to Kieran’s head, Audrey pulled a chain around his throat, Kieran killed eighteen, and people gossiped. They’re not going to stopfor a pretty blonde girl with PTSD. Even if that girl is the love of Audrey’s life.

 

It’s scary to admit that, now that Emma’s pulled away so much, but the thought pounds in her veins, throbs in her mind like a perpetual headache. Audrey loves this girl, more than she’s ever loved anyone. And it’s terrifying. How can you feel at peace at all when this girl you love so much, this girl who is your _universe_ , drowns her sorrow in bottles every weekend? Right now, Emma is no safer than she was when Kieran and Piper were around, and it frightens Audrey like nothing else.

 

The minute it takes to clamber down the stairs to the wine cellar feels like the longest minute in the world. Audrey doesn’t know why that is, exactly; it’s not like Kieran’s still on the loose and she’s anticipating finding another broken body. Even when Kieran was taunting her with her secrets, Audrey wasn’t half as on-edge as she is in this moment. Maybe it’s because the more mundane things are what scares her now, when she’s so used to bloodshed and death that the glint of a knife seems normal; maybe it’s because Emma’s life is what’s at stake now, not just her trust.

 

_Calm down, Jensen,_ she tries to tell herself as she reaches the final step. _You’re literally freaking out over someone who just likes to party a little too much. We’ve all been there, right? She’ll be fine. She’s Emma, she’ll get through this—_

 

Her body freezes, and with it, her thoughts, as her boot brushes against something cold and limp. Not just something, not just anything. _Emma._

 

Each and every one of her worst nightmares flash before her eyes as Audrey drops to her knees by her best friend’s side and tries to shake her awake. “Emma,” she pleads. “C’mon, Em. Wake up. Wake up. You’re okay.” Emma’s breathing, albeit a bit too shallowly for her taste, and Audrey quickly checks the girl over for any sign of damage. But she can’t find anything. No broken bones, no stab wounds, not even a hint of blood. If her eyes weren’t closed and tongue not practically lolling out of her mouth, Audrey wouldn’t even be able to tell that there was something wrong with Emma at all.

 

It’s the scene around her that finally clues her in to Emma’s problem. An empty bottle of Smirnoff and a couple of crumpled wine coolers surround her, and Audrey’s not sure whether to feel relieved or horrified by the new knowledge that it’s the alcohol that’s done this to her best friend. A simple fall would be far easier to solve than an alcohol dependency, though Audrey wouldn’t wish either on her. This is a kind of broken that she’s not sure how to fix.

 

But fixing isn’t what she needs to do right now. Right now, she needs to get Emma home safely and make sure she doesn’t choke on her own puke — and she _has_ seen Emma drunk a couple of times, in the golden first few months of their freshman year when they hadn’t drifted apart yet, so she knows that that stage is soon to come. It’s true that she’s never seen her blackout drunk, but Emma wouldn’t be drunk Emma without a little bit of nausea (as nasty as that’s going to be). 

 

Audrey’s still contemplating the best way to get this girl home when Emma’s eyes flutter open. “Audrey?” she whispers. The name’s usually a delight to hear from her lips, rolls off her tongue almost melodically — and don’t get her wrong, Audrey’s relieved to hear Emma saying anything at all — but the alcohol has thickened it, makes it sound almost kind of sad. 

 

“Emma,” Audrey breathes, and in spite of herself, she wraps the other girl in a hug. She’d never admit it, but she’s got tears beading in the corners of her eyes, tears that Emma might not be aware enough to see right now, but tears that are definitely real and _there_. Maybe it’s a little pathetic, but Emma is the one thing that can get her truly emotionally vulnerable. Emma is the one thing she’s most scared of losing, and for a second, when she’d walked into that wine cellar, Audrey had almost thought she’d lost her.

 

Emma doesn’t hug her back; she’s fallen asleep again, eyelids drooping shut, but Audrey’s glad to know that she’s going to be okay. “I’ve got you, Em,” she murmurs. “You’re gonna be okay.” She tries to lift the other girl, but she quickly realizes that she can’t carry Emma out all by herself. Audrey’s got more muscle than her, that’s true, but what Emma lacks in muscle, she makes up for in height and, consequently, weight. She’s going to have to get help for this one. 

 

Audrey doesn’t want to leave her here, but there’s no way any of her friends are going to answer their phones right now, let alone hear them, so she presses a quick kiss to Emma’s forehead and sprints up the stairs, taking them two at a time. There must be worry written on her features, because people get out of her way, like Moses parting the Red Sea. (Audrey’s mind always comes up with biblical references at the worst of times — the consequence of growing up with a pastor for a father, she supposes.) 

 

She heads for Stavo and Brooke, for two reasons: one, because she knows that Stavo is definitely much stronger than her favorite beanpole Noah, and two, because Noah’s the lightest of lightweights and he’s probably completely wasted by now — when she gets Emma situated at her place, she’ll probably have to drive back here to take him home.

 

The thing about surviving a murder spree with someone is that they can instantly seek you out in any crowd, and that’s a handy skill Audrey is grateful for as she approaches her friends. Brooke instantly locks eyes with her, a frown forming on Stavo’s features at her expression, and their attention is immediately diverted to her, despite the large crowd of people around them.

 

“Audrey, what’s wrong?” is the first thing out of Brooke’s mouth when Audrey finally gets to her side.

 

“Nothing’s wrong, really, it’s just — it’s Emma. She’s _totally_ trashed, not even conscious, and I can take her back to my place but I just need some help—” The words tumble out of Audrey’s mouth like water bursting out of a dam, her pent-up anxiety making her speak faster than ever. Brooke brushes a hand against her arm, like _slow down_ , but Stavo understands perfectly (and in this moment, Audrey regrets ever doubting him). He shares a look with Brooke, some unspoken lovers’ language that Audrey can only pray she’ll experience one day ( _hopefully with Emma_ ), and then they’re heading back to the wine cellar, Audrey taking the lead and Stavo following close behind.

 

They carry Emma to the car together silently, and there’s a million words Audrey wants to say, apologies for the broken tablet and the bloody nose, but she doesn’t, cuz Emma’s still limp in their arms and Stavo probably just wants to get back to the party and drink a cold beer. _Another time_ , she promises herself. _I’ll save those words for another time._ Because Stavo _does_ deserve to hear them, really, and he’s being so nice tonight that Audrey’s looking forward to making peace with him. Kieran took a lot from her, only furthered her suspicions of Stavo, but she’s done letting things get taken away. Stavo will be the beginning of a new chapter, she thinks.

 

Brooke comes out with Audrey’s jacket, which she’d apparently left thrown across a chair in the foyer, and two bottles of water. “I know you didn’t drink much, but I just want you to be careful,” Brooke tells her, wearing the _“I mean business”_ face that Audrey personally enjoys so much (probably because she loves seeing her friend surprising people and kicking ass). “Try to drink a little bit whenever you hit a stop sign, okay? And make sure you give Emma some when she wakes up,” Brooke continues.

 

It makes her smile, because Brooke’s such a genuinely good person and she doesn’t even know it (and also, Brooke’s relatively drunk herself, so her being adorable and trying to take care of the two of them is even cuter), and Audrey’s so _happy_ to have her in her life. She wasn’t sure if Brooke would ever forgive her after seeing the video, but once Audrey had explained it, Brooke had very quickly reassured her that their friendship wouldn’t change because of Kieran’s sadistic move. _“It hurt, but I know you, Audrey. If you had a choice, you would’ve told me. So I don’t blame you. Let Kieran take the fall for that one.”_

 

“Thank you, Brooke,” she says, sincerely and softly, taking the water bottles and her jacket as Stavo sets Emma down in the backseat. “I’ll text you when we get home, okay?” 

 

The corners of Brooke’s lips curve up into a small smile, just for a second, but it disappears just as quickly as it came, almost like Brooke’s trying to hide it. Audrey wants to ask her about it, but she’s got a responsibility asleep in her car, so that conversation will have to be saved for another day. She thanks Stavo and starts the engine, making sure to buckle her seatbelt so Brooke doesn’t have a heart attack. “Drive safe!” Brooke calls, waving at her as she pulls away. “I’ll be waiting for that text!” 

 

_You don’t have to worry about that, Brooke_ , Audrey thinks. _I’ve got precious cargo._

 

She’s never driven so safely.

 

———

They end up at Audrey’s house, since her father’s at a pastors’ convention in New Orleans this weekend and her mother’s still in Boston for treatment. Maggie Duval may be a fairly easygoing parent, but even she has limits, and Audrey doubts that she’d react to a shit-faced Emma very well. 

 

By some sort of miracle, Audrey manages to get Emma half-standing, leaning on her shoulder enough that they can shuffle through the front door and into the living room. The stairs aren’t an obstacle she wants to brave with alcohol in the equation, so she gets Emma settled on the couch, throws the softest blanket she can find over her and heads to her room to find a pair of pajamas the taller girl might be able to wear.

 

She’s got a pair of whale-print pants (the only thing she could find that looks like it might be long enough for Emma) thrown across her shoulder when she hears someone croaking her name. “Audrey?” 

 

She abandons the pants on her bed and runs downstairs so quickly she almost trips. Emma’s sitting half-up, reaching for the water bottle Audrey put on the side table. Audrey hands it to her, and Emma hastily screws the cap off and gulps it down for a good minute before she can clear her throat and speak again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” she says, voice hoarse from sleep. “What happened?”

 

“Hmm, let’s see… You got trashed at Brooke’s party, passed out, and I brought you here, cuz God knows your mom wouldn’t wanna see you like this,” Audrey replies, electing to curl up next to Emma on the sofa, like they always did when they were kids. She doesn’t mean for that accusatory tone to creep into her words the way it does, because Emma can be an emotional drunk and the last thing she needs is a sobbing spree right now, but she can’t help it. Her heart is screaming at her to hold an intervention, _right now_ , even though her brain’s completely aware of the fact that _that_ needs to be set aside for a different time.

 

Emma just nods, guilt written all over her features, and seeing some sort of emotion on her face is a relief, though Audrey wishes she didn’t have a reason to feel guilty. “What’s wrong, Em?” she asks gently, fingers brushing against the other girl’s arm so lightly that Emma shivers. “I know this isn’t a one-time thing. You’ve been shutting yourself off. Why?” 

 

Emma’s crying in seconds, and regret tears at Audrey’s heart, more painful than any of Kieran’s knives. Her chest only aches more when Emma reaches for her, the way she would when they were ten, but she lets her, takes Emma in her arms because it’s what the other girl needs, and Audrey would never deny her of that. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Audrey murmurs against her skin, Emma’s chin tucked just above her head. “I shouldn’t have asked when you’re not feeling well.”

 

Emma shakes her head, pulls back after a second. “No,” she says firmly. “We need to talk about it.”

 

“Emma, you’re still drunk—” Audrey tries. Emma doesn’t let her finish.

 

“Not drunk enough that I won’t remember in the morning. Not drunk enough that I don’t know what I’m saying,” Emma insists. She’s not slurring her words half as much as she was earlier, so Audrey thinks that maybe she’s actually serious, that this isn’t just some drunken good-girl-guilt tell-all. After all, she _has_ heard that people are the most honest when they’re drunk. Hopefully that applies to Emma.

 

“I’ve been pulling away from you because I’m scared,” Emma begins, tears already beading in the corners of her eyes again. Audrey wants to wipe them away, but she doesn’t want to make Emma uncomfortable with the contact, so she just tucks her hands under her legs and listens. “You have to understand something — everyone I love ends up _dead_ , Audrey. If I love you — if I let myself love you, you won’t be safe. And I can’t risk losing you. It would _kill_ me.”

 

“Oh, Em,” Audrey breathes. “You’re not gonna lose me. You have to realize that. Piper’s dead. Kieran’s behind bars. And I’m _right here_. I am not leaving you anytime soon unless you want me to.” 

 

Emma’s lip trembles, and Audrey worries she’s said the wrong thing. But then Emma says quietly, “Want you to leave? Audrey, I would _never_. And I’m sorry, for how distant I’ve been. I just… I guess I just don’t know how to handle things anymore.” She starts to cry again, and this time Audrey allows herself to reach out and touch Emma’s shoulder, hoping the gesture will be enough to stop her tears for at least a little while. The tears do slow for a moment, Emma looking up at her with wide, hopeful eyes that both terrify and excite her. 

 

“I love you, Audrey,” Emma whispers, and then she’s leaning forward, their lips almost touching — but, no. Audrey pulls away, because Emma is drunk, and maybe she means what she’s saying, Audrey has the feeling that she does, but she’s going to wait and let Emma decide that for herself, when she’s sober (if a little hungover). It would be wrong to take advantage of Emma’s emotional, drunken state right now, whether she means it or not.

 

Emma seems to take this as a rejection. She leans back on her heels, eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and she stares down at her blanket as she mutters, “Oh, God. You don’t feel the same way anymore. I pushed you away with the whole distance thing, of course you don’t still like me back, God, I’m sorry—”

 

“No, no, no, Em,” Audrey frantically cuts in. “I love you. I’m _in_ love with you. I just don’t want to take advantage of you, you’re kind of drunk right now.” 

 

Emma lets out a little snort at that, giggles, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” and then they’re both laughing, shoulders shaking with the intensity of it, and _god_ it feels good to let go for a second. Scratch that, it feels fucking _fantastic_ , because if Emma wakes up tomorrow and still means every word she’s saying now, if this is really true, then Audrey is to Emma what Emma is to her, and that’s quite possibly the best news she’s gotten in a long time. The best news she’s gotten in, well, _ever_.

 

Emma’s beautiful, all light eyes and dimpled smile and rosy cheeks, and Audrey can’t help but wonder how she got so lucky. She doesn’t deserve this, really, to have a girl who’s so scared of losing her that she’d put herself through an awful lot of pain just to not see it. And Emma deserves something from her back, at least, right? She deserves to know just how much Audrey will do for her, what she’d lose for her, what she’d give and take for Emma Duval. 

 

But Audrey doesn’t quite know how to express that yet. So instead, she resolves to make a promise. When the laughter has ceased and they’re left sitting in the loudest kind of silence, Audrey takes Emma’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and lets their eyes meet. She can feel Emma’s pulse, beating wildly through the skin where their wrists touch, and it’s so surreal and gorgeous that she can barely believe it. 

 

_Make your promise_ , Audrey reminds herself, lest she get caught up in the intensity of the moment.

 

“Emma Duval,” she murmurs, “I promise you, I will spend every day proving to you that you’re not going to lose me, if you’ll let me.” 

 

“Audrey,” Emma says softly. “Don’t you know that you already have?” 

 

Audrey has no response to that, can only sit there and wear the stupidest grin, and she just hopes to whatever God there may be that Emma remembers this in the morning.

 

———

She remembers.

 

She remembers, and loss is no longer a thing that they fear — because as they both come to realize, loss only means that there was once something beautiful there.

 

And together, Audrey and Emma learn to find the beauty in that.


End file.
